


drabble

by Limonium



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:47:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limonium/pseuds/Limonium
Summary: Drabble dump yeeeeee.





	1. the dream

**Author's Note:**

> Not betad/edited. I apologize for any errors. These are mostly bouts of inspiration and fluctuating emotions (and instances when its 3am and I can't sleep).
> 
> Enjoy~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a dream sequence

At one point Eren was walking among the legendary ivory trees of Maria, twigs breaking underneath his bare feet, the snow clad ground warm against his skin. His breath coming out in white puffs of air; every exhale as colorless as his surroundings. From above, snowflakes are continuously pouring, painting his unknown path an endless, seamless white. The silence around him was deafening-- it's as if hearing the creaking of each snowflake a possibility. It was only him and that white world; crystal and clear, devoid of colour, the sky blurring into the white leaves and the white branches in the horizon. He didn't know if it was day or night.

 

_"Eren."_

 

A bell like voice. It tingles and echoes and calls for him; a whisper in the deep of night, a pair of feet dangling above the water.

A caress from a hand reaching out for warmth.

He blinked and there he was, unmoving. Unyielding. Both his hands wet and dripping with clear water, both his eyes upon the stone statues towering over him.

 

_"To you, in two thousand years."_

 

It was higher than the castle in Sina, even finer than the great halls of the Capital in Trost. It's as high as the feared mountain ranges surrounding his hometown, the lilac flowers he used to pick with his mother encircle the statues, adding color to the gray and moss covered figures.

He wishes to go near and feel the smooth surface in his palms, to kneel and ask for their guidance, to cherish. To heal and mend. To breathe life.

 

_"To you, Eren. The sun-child."_

 

He can't move. He stands there, frozen, water continuously dripping in between his fingers and onto the ground. The soil and thick grass beneath his feet darkens with water.

The puddle grows bigger, wider and then he's all but a tiny dot in the middle.

Eren looks down, his reflection looking back at him, eyes glittering in swirling shades of blue and green and gold.

In the background was the frigid ivory trees of Maria, the endless white sky and the falling snow.

He looks up and the sky is blue.

 

_"To you, Eren. The call."_

 

He looks back to the stone statues. Both are clad in long, wavy cloaks facing each other.

The one on the right had a crown upon its head. The Goddess Maria, the Wreathe of Rose and the Stallion of Sina, the symbols of the reigning kingdoms of Paradis repeatedly engraved around the band. Both of its hands are resting upon the hilt of a sword stuck on the ground.

The one on the left was kneeling, both hands upturned as if to receive something from the other, it's left hand wearing a thin wristlet bearing the Crafter's Sun.

 

_"To you, Eren. The hop--"_

 

The last drop falls, and Eren takes a step beyond.


	2. random ABO intro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was thinking about abo au and how can i make it work (without the usual scenting, smut, marking etc) but then i havent really thought of how the story should be bec im a lazy potato, so i gave up

There was once a man who was the talk of the town. He looked the part of a city boy, who grew up into a stable salary man. He always wore plain colored clothes, neat and ironed; clean, shiny shoes and even neater belongings. He never looked improper, always came on time to his work in the library, always waits in the same spot at the bus stop and always sits at the exact same seat: the third row window seat at the right-hand side of the bus. He also comes into a café at exactly 6:59 in the morning. Not a minute more, not a minute less.

Then, one day, a worker in a supermarket where the said man frequents to found this same man looking completely different. The exact opposite of the man’s routinely characteristics which had been observed by the usual people he gets to interact with every day. He looked angry, feverish and annoyed; red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes, his pale skin flushed red and sweaty, mussed black hair with strands going against the familiar state it’s supposed to be in, his legs shaky and body shivering.

Out of concern, the worker approached the man to ask if he might need some assistance. He looked sick and about to keel over at any time. He was about to call the man’s attention, and he was around three feet away, when the man turned to him and he had to stop.

Then the next thing the worker knew, was that he was being shaken by the shoulders by one of his co-workers. When he was asked what the hell he was doing, standing frozen and completely dazed at the medical supplies lane, he couldn’t respond, and was so confused. He couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be doing, but there was something akin to terror that lingers in him.

Eventually, rumors began that other people had experienced the same thing.


	3. fantasy au 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i dont even know tbh

On the night that the Royal King had decided to exile the palace’s enigmatic doctor, Grisha had gotten word from a young trainee that he had to send his family safely towards the outskirts of Shinganshina quickly. Grisha held the crumpled note in his hand, Erwin’s message scribbled in quick and almost unreadable strokes that speak to him how dire the situation is. It was left in between one of the pages in his medical satchel, slipped in among medicinal papers he had recorded plenty during his stay at the trainees clinic.

Erwin had owed him his life twice; the first was bringing him in late, unannounced one night in their humble home in the cobbled streets of Orvud. The blond soldier was bleeding badly from a poisoned arrow that struck him on his watch over the bordering walls that separated the northern town from the icy mountain ranges of the kingdom. His blond hair was matted on his forehead, sweat continuously breaking on his pale skin that if seen by a normal person, would deem him to be a lost cause. He was brought in by a sand-haired man, tall and large by the name of Mike. The other was another blonde hazel-eyed woman called Nanaba. All three trainees had blood smeared on their uniforms, though Erwin was the only one with an arrow deeply impaled across his right collarbone. Grisha had quickly attended to him with the aide of his wife, and within an hour he was looking normal and ready for battle.

The second time was when he was caught by Captain Shadis snooping in the military archives at an ungodly hour, accompanied by Hanji, who was also quoted by their co-trainees as ‘mad goggles’. She was also Grisha’s apprentice at the clinic. Luckily, Grisha has been accompanying the captain at that time, discussing the upgrade on medical tools to be brought during the military’s excursions. Grisha had quickly intervened that he had left Erwin and Hanji to look into records on the Craft, since he was figuring out new herbs for healing uses. They were lucky Shadis had noted them as remarkable trainees and even complimented them for having an interest in such a field.

The fourteen-year olds simply nodded and saluted the Captain when he left to turn in for the night, and Grisha had earned another apprentice.

Erwin mostly came to him with ideas on how the Craft had been used not only for medicine, but also for war. Hanji is the one mostly suited to indulge him on his experiments and observations for the use of the Craft.

He and Carla left immediately once he had gotten home. He merely shared a look with his wife, and they quickly packed their minimal belongings into to two large sacks of cloth. Hunter, the brownish stallion was saddled, the couple both wearing gray cloaks leaving the one-roomed house at the height of the full moon.


	4. fantasy au 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea captain and amnesiac brat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was thinking about teas and captain and 'drink ur goddamn tea eren' then i saw swordplay under a list of prompts

"You don't remember anything at all?" the captain asked. Levi picks up his cup, fingers on the brim, the cup handle seemingly nonexistent to the man every time.

Eren had always wanted to ask why he drinks in such a manner, but he couldn't, so when he was dying from curiosity once, he approached the squad members and they dismissed it as something 'natural' and 'normal'.

Levi is humanity's strongest after all. Yes, of course. It's normal.

"...uhh, if you, sir, mean anything concrete...y-yeah. There are times when I have these... images in my head, but they're all fogged up," Eren fidgets and plays with the hem of his shirt, brows furrowing, searching for the answers he himself doesn't even know, "and there are a lot of times... when I am doing certain things, I just have the feeling that I-- like, _I just know._ " Like something _natural_ , something _ingrained_ , Eren wants to say, but he thinks it's absurd so he doesn't say it.

The captain nods his head and continues to sip his tea, gaze falling to the window where they can glimpse soldiers and helpers running and milling about, doing their afternoon duties. Clanging metal and a few cheers can be heard from somewhere around the camp. Shadis is probably dragging the slacking recruits to train; the duel earlier posed as an alternative way of instilling and motivating correct sword-fighting skills, and everyone also seemed to liven up with contending with other trainees. Eren blows on his own cup, inhaling the floral scent, and takes a tentative sip. He looks down and notices his shirt is somewhat crinkled now on the edges due to his incessant pulling and crumpling. He tries to straighten it. Levi breaks the silence.

"Your duel with Mike was... not bad."

"T-thank you, sir." Eren snaps up and inwardly grimaces at his too-quick response. His eyes are wide at the vague compliment, not expecting any praise from Levi, of all people. The captain's gaze was still turned outside, the afternoon yellow slowly fading to dimmer shades of orange and red; the forest trees in the horizon painted with warmth. They could see the soldiers busy preparing torches to be lighted once the night takes over.

Levi sighs.

"He was actually surprised you knew a style of swordplay. Even Hanji recognized some of the movements despite failing thrice and being shit at it."

"S-style?" Eren stares at Levi with disbelief. The captain looked as nonchalant as ever, as if he didn't just drop worthwhile information.

"Yes. Not just any style too."

"Uh..."

"Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

"I- I don't know sir? I... are you saying..."

"Yes."

"But I don't know any such thing!?"

Levi looked amused at his response and stands up to refill his cup, leaving Eren a few moments to let the words sink in. Eren stares blankly. Sword style? Swordplay? His brows furrow again, and he goes on sipping his tea until he finishes it. He remembers Shadis pointing out in one of their training sessions that style varies from kingdom to kingdom, race to race, family to family.

He doesn't notice Levi come back a few seconds later, not until the scent of tea leaves hits his nostrils, and his own cup being pushed back into his hands with newly, found warmth. They sat in silence, vague chatter from the hallway filter through the door from time to time, and mainly the sound of teacups and liquid being drank echo throughout the captain's office.

"Royal swordplay." Levi simply declares.

"I'm sorry sir?"

"I said royal swordplay. Are you deaf?"

"No!"

"Good." Levi sighs.

"What's that supposed to _mean_?" Eren asks, his eyes wide with continuous disbelief because, yes, Levi just said 'royal swordplay' and he is not stupid, nor deaf, but combining the word 'royal' with 'swordplay' doesn't ring any bells and-- much to his surprise --he feels that knowing such a thing is _alarming_ and _self-satisfying_ at the same time. So he knows royal swordplay? How?

"By _how_ , given you don't remember shit, we can only rely on assumptions right now." Levi taps his fingers slowly on the table. He looks at Eren, and the brown haired boy, even if sitting properly, had his mouth gaping open. Eren's brows are creasing endlessly. Wouldn't that mean he's... No. He doesn't think he is a... Surely, h-he's normal? Eren takes a deep breath.

"W-what kind of assumptions, sir?"

"Easiest would be either you're an enemy or ally."

"I'm no enemy!"

"You have no memories."

"Well, yeah... doesn't mean I am one!"

"I didn't say you are, you shithead; I said assumptions."

"What about the r-royal part?" Eren exclaims and to his surprise, Levi snorts. Thinking about it, he never saw the captain smile or heard him laugh before.

"You look stupid but you ask _some_ right questions. Also drink your goddamn tea, it's getting cold."


	5. maybe a canon scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a scene in canon after conquering marley (that i will never write)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood mention

Pain. He’s in pain. What’s going on, he thinks. He tries to move, then there’s that sharp pain embedded in his right leg. Levi looks down, eyesight slowly focusing on that one point where his leg is screaming at him. He realizes he’s lying on his side, and that there’s something warm on his head.

When he finally sees his leg, he doesn’t know what to think because there’s this piece of metal stuck real deep in his flesh. He groans at the sight, closes his eyes firmly and takes deep breaths. When he opens them he tries to assess his wound, and he’s really worried now because that’s a good amount of blood underneath, still continuously flowing out.

“Ah, fuck, fuck.” Levi whispers. He lays his head back down, and he feels that warmth again. He tries to turn around, but fuck it really hurts and where the hell is this even, he was just—

“Levi…” a whimper above him.

“Fuck. Ugh, shit—hey Eren? Eren?” Levi says as he tries to move. He struggles and inch by inch he pushes himself upward with his hands. The metal scrapes on the floor as he moves, but he’s ignoring the throbbing as much as he can. His head then hits that warmth and he turns his head to the right. There’s a bloody hand in front of him, and he reaches out.

“Eren? Oi, hear me?” he tugs the hand carefully.

“Levi, is that—is that you?” Eren asks in a small voice.

“Yeah, brat, I’m right here. I’m—shit—I’m gonna crawl over there so don’t fucking move.”

“Levi, I—I can’t feel my legs…”

Shit. Levi wills himself not to turn the other way. Levi squeezes Eren’s hand.

“Don’t worry brat, Hanji—Hanji will check on you so, just hold up alright?”

Eren begins to cough. Levi keeps his hold on Eren, and in one swift but extremely painful move he sits up. Fuck. The sprained ankle is much better compared to this, he thinks. He takes a couple of deep breaths, lets go of the kid’s hand as he pushes himself towards Eren once more and turns to check on him. The brat’s face is turned to Levi, eyes closed while coughing.

Coughing a lot of blood.

“Eren, hey. Hey, look at me,” Levi holds Eren’s face gently in his hand. When the coughing subsides, the kid’s eyes open, the greens clearly unfocused but searching. Levi calls out to him again and then finally those eyes are gazing at him.

“Levi. C—Captain. I’m—I’m sorry.”


	6. a probability of sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a draft i made back for Ereri Summer Week 2017 (which was prompted and inspired by 'kimi no na wa' day) (and my interest in "liminal spaces")

“Oi.”

Eren pauses from his reading, looks up, but doesn’t see anyone else inside the greenhouse. He was fairly sure he had been coming and going inside the plant paradise, a discovery he had done during the end of prelims, and never even once had he seen someone else in the space. It was behind the oldest school building which was off limits, and he was elated to find his own secret spot to relax inside the school grounds. Guess he’s wrong.

“I’m over here dumbass.”

Eren turns his head around, then up. There’s a black haired guy looking comfortably seated on one of the steps of the metal staircase. Emphasis on comfortably seated, but the guy’s sharp stare says otherwise. Eren stares back.

After a few minutes, the guy sighs and gets up. He was wearing a white polo and black slacks— typical school uniform—but something about it irks Eren off. The guy tucks a thin book under his armpit and crosses his arms.

“How did you get in here?” he asks, staring Eren down. How rude, Eren thinks. And pretty short as he observes. The guy takes careful steps down, the clang of metal tingly as it echoes throughout the greenhouse. Thick vines of bougainvillea wrap around the handrails, white hues mingling with the greens makes the guy’s descent somewhat surreal.

“Through the front door.” Eren says.

The guy pauses, then continues. He looks a little grim, like he’s ready to break an arm. Level two pissed, Eren muses.

“Hm. You don’t look familiar. Are you an outsider?” the guys says firmly.

“I’m wearing my uniform.”

“I don’t see your patch anywhere, stitch it up kid.”

Kid. Eren feels his eyebrow twitch. He bets he’s taller than this… shorty.

“It’s on my coat.”

“One on the breast pocket, another one on the coat. Basic uniform rules. Students are not allowed in here too, so fess it up. How’d you get in?”

Eren sighs. He takes note on what page he was interrupted in and he slips in his bookmark. The guy finally arrives on the last step. Eren turns from where he’s seated, fully facing the guy.

“Door. You know, the one in front?”

“Well, smartass, the door is always locked. How did you—” the guy says, eyes flashing almost deadly, his index finger pointed at Eren, “—get the fuck in here?”

What a perpetually angry guy. Eren sighs again as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Like I said, the front doo—wait, you said locked. What do you mean locked?”

The hell? He always came in here but it was never locked. It was also impossible, is this guy even joking?

Eren puts his book down on the rusty metal table and gets up, the wooden stool he was seated at making a scraping sound on the cement floor. He only gets his lunch time to escape boring hours at school.

“Yo, dude. I don’t know why you look so—just, c’mon. I’m losing important reading time.” Eren gestures for the guy to follow him and heads to the direction where the door is. Thankfully, the guy does follow, though Eren thinks he might’ve seen some question and… curiosity in the guy’s face. They go around a few hanging orchids, a couple of leaves brushing their cheeks and uniform sleeves. There were plenty and healthy rows of budding flowers, carnations and roses and chrysanthemums greenish and round.

Their steps merge with the rustling of fabric, the hanging stems swaying as they both pass. Eren can feel the eyes boring at the back of his head. In a few minutes, they reach the double wooden doors with its rusty and loose hinges, the lower portion missing a chunk from being left alone for years. The light blue paint peeled off and chipped, the color faded into a dirty white shade. Both doors are missing knobs, and in its place are gaping holes with a thin rope looped on one, and then into the other.

Eren waits for the guy to say something. He watches the guy look the doors over from top to bottom, eyebrows furrowing and face contorting into grave confusion.

“This… I don’t understand. I had just repainted it… the other day.” The guy says as he reaches out one hand towards the doors, eyes falling to the rope, examining it.

The guy sounded so forlornly genuine and it was Eren’s turn to be confused.

“What do you mean? Dude, it’s been like this for years. I’ve asked the gardening club if they’d restore this place. I mean, just look. It’s such a waste."

The guy gives him a side-glance, one eyebrow raising in question.

“Gardening club?”

“You know, seedlings and shovels and fertilizer?”

“There’s no gardening club.”

“What? Of course there is.”

“Bullshit. I’d know if there was, I’m in the student committee.”

“What?”

“What, what?”

Eren narrows his eyes.

“You’re kidding.”

The guy cocks his head to the side.

“Well, you don’t even look like you’re into gardening.”

“That’s beside the point. Look, just—I showed you the front door. I got in through here. I’m gonna go back to my reading.” Eren starts to walk away.

“Oi. What’s your name?”

Eren stops and turns around.

“Eren.”

“Hm.”

The guy continues examining the doors.

“Well, what’s your name?”

The guy’s fingers previously inspecting the wood pauses.

“Levi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i havent decided what to do with this one at all... this was typed real quick (it felt like the idea was running away from me!) and it pains me bec i had an ending in mind before and (sighs) there was a plot somewhere and i sort of lost it orz
> 
> a little ooc probably? also english is not my native language so i hope the phrasing..isn't too forced, and (sobs) my vocabulary is lacking...im sorry


	7. little levi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to write some kid!levi and fluff, but then my mind went (angst!!! drama!!!) and i didnt even make it to the angst/drama part

There’s definitely something wrong with whatever Levi’s seeing right now. In fact he had been asking himself for the longest time, whether he had gone mad, that his mind had the gall to come up with a very elaborate prank on him (for whatever reason he might or might’ve known), and he’s really trying to shake off this feeling in him—that he’s incredibly, unbelievably elated—to see that brown tuft of hair.

He had mentioned it to Hanji numerous times, that he had this—feeling—odd, fiery, and to some extent is concrete to him, something palpable and stinging he’s often left confused.

Something akin to how he feels when he’s a proctor in an examination, a number of eyes boring on him, checking whether he would look their way to catch them taking a glimpse on a phone or make a small hiss towards their seatmate. And he smirks, hiding behind his glasses, then smug as he calls the students to pay attention to their own work.

Like that time he had finished cleaning the faculty pantry in their department, cups dripping water as he places them carefully on cloth upside down, utensils shimmering and stainless, the table free from any plates or wrappers or whatever leftover he had shoved in the fridge.

That very first moment he had turned around to someone mentioning his name, the barely eight years old Levi sitting alone in one of the playground swings back in Rose; his tiny hands gripping a little harder on the chains when he sees—sparse brows, a tan and rounded face, very pretty golden eyes (was it not green?)—and he’s confused, because he doesn’t know him, and why would an unknown mister know his name?

(But he knows, deep down. He doesn’t understand though.)

And then when Levi doesn’t move then, the mister kneels in front of him, eyes shining and moist, and Levi tilts his head, small lips parting because he recognizes him but he doesn’t know. His chest throbs then, something hurting in his gut—and he has a feeling that his eyes are shining too. The mister calls his name again.

‘Levi, Levi, Levi’ he says.

Little Levi bawls then, and when he had calmed down, the mister was not there anymore.

Every year then, from childhood games to hanging outside the elementary grounds waiting for his school bus, he sees that fleeting flash of bright golden eyes, but when he turns to check it’s gone.

Or the birthday parties he was forcibly pulled into by his mom and Uncle Kenny, where he sometimes leaves, runs away for some space (from other fingers with icing and tiny noses with snot or cheeks with spaghetti sauce), mostly sitting at the curb or the driveway or the car bumper, he sees him standing a few houses away, that brown tuft of hair, messy and blown-over by the wind, and those gold eyes he thinks are glowing despite the distance between them. 


	8. what's your name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kid!levi and kid!eren

On Eren's first week in kindergarten, he had forgotten to tell his mom that they'll be painting their names on a piece of short bond paper.

He had just arrived at the door when he saw those rectangular pallettes of cheap watercolor, pieces of oil pastel and crayons scattered on the class' shared table, and when his teacher had cleared his throat and politely asked him to take his seat, he feels himself sweat.

Because imagine just how he'd be left out for the next hour or so. He sat there, frozen, his young mind trying to come up for a solution in order for him to join in their activity today.

The teacher was droning out something along the lines of _'...this is the name God calls you...'_ \--because this is holistic education, he overheard from the school director once-- and hasn't noticed his current problem, when he noticed a white sheet of bond paper being pushed onto his side of the table.

 

He takes a peek towards his seatmate.

It's the quiet boy whose always early in class. And this seatmate has actually began scribbling on his own paper a neat straight line (which is impressive) for a fellow kindergartner.

Eren continues staring, watches in awe as another straight line is added at the end of the first one.

_L._

 

Then his seatmate pauses, and takes a peek at him. Eren quickly turns to look towards the front.

Their teacher was demonstrating steps to draw a tiny flower. Something to make their work fancy probably. (He's fairly sure this guy is going to get in trouble with his mom. That includes himself too, since he didn't write any reminder in his assignment notebook.)

 

He suddenly feels a nudge at his left hand and he looks down. There's now a sharpened pencil on top of his paper.

He turns to look again at his seatmate-- _L_ \--who's also looking at him.

 

He looks pale? Lighter than white, Eren thinks. Like one of his mom's pretty floral vases in their living room.

Or that japanese doll Mikasa has in her room, the one with the red kimono with the cherry blossom details at the hem.

His hair was neatly parted in the middle. Black, because Eren's hair is brown. Yep, definitely black Eren decides.

L nudges the pencil towards him again. Eren looks down and he notices that there's a wobbly E, a neat V and another neat I added beside L.

 

_Oh._

 

Eren nods at him, and he picks up the pencil. He starts writing a shaky E-R-E-N on his paper. Once he was done, (Leevy? Leevay? Lee--??) was offering him his box of crayons. It seems like his seatmate wanted them to color together.

Eren flashes him a smile.

L nods.

 

Later when Eren gets home, he happily shows Carla his work. Plus babbling about a new friend.

 

Later when Kuchel picks up her son at Kenny's, Levi does the same. (Except he's more relaxed about it.)

 

They're both looking forward on going to school tomorrow.


	9. wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blank slate. A black hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of blood, implied suicide attempt (which is really vague and wasn't described at all), panic attack/anxiety attack, the word 'homophobic' is mentioned once

That was it. Levi cannot feel anything at all. It was there one moment, then in a blink of an eye— poof! All gone. He‘s lying there on his bed, his black hair mussed, belongings haphazardly thrown in a corner or two, his bag and its contents strewn all over the floor. For the first time in years, the neat and orderly bedroom is in disarray.

He’s tired. Oh God, how he is so tired. Tired of being watched and scrutinized, tired of the disappointment never once voiced but is clearly tossed his way through the silent glares and the hushed whispers. He was never physically hit or punished unlike when he was younger—those peaceful days are gone—but words, either spoken or not, oh how it cuts so much.

How long has he kept up the facade? He doesn’t even remember anymore. It was more getting used to the experience day after day that he’d grown apathetic to it. Had become ignorant in a sense, and then unfeeling. Slowly and agonizingly dying out, becoming emotionless. Less of it. Every. Single. Day.

When was the last time he smiled? A genuine one? Was it high school? University? Where was that… feeling? That kind of exhilaration when he gets into a fight, or the adrenaline he gets when trying to defend himself? He swiftly grew up and instead of the familiar physical fights it all turned mental. Verbal and non-verbal. Emotional.

He can’t sleep. That straight eight-hour requirement has become non-existent. A chore. The longest would have been five-hours but that was back when he was twelve. And when he does get that these days it’s all full of bad things. Of nightmares. But no, nightmares are still dreams. Dreams are just stuff that’s all in the mind. Instead, the real world—his home, his family, the expectations, the people around him—this was it. That which is excruciating in every manner. How he wishes for everything to end.

He’s unemployed. He had to stop going to university. Got a job experience here and there from his high school days. Had some online language training for three-months. Now, he’s been trying to get a job again but even opportunities has been avoiding him. Of fucking course, even the universe would be disappointed with him.

He wants to help, he really does. Pay half the bills at least. Save something for Isabel. Have enough to be able to leave and do his art. Even if the only guardian left is a drunkard with homophobic tendencies, he has to at least give something back.

 

Kuchel always gave him something in return when he brings her flowers back then. Even if she doesn’t need to.

 

But sometimes it’s just, so, so hard. Even his bedroom has become suffocating for him. His once safe haven? It’s a fucking cage. A wall too high. And if he keeps on staying in this house, he doesn’t even know anymore.

He stares blankly at the ceiling. He’s a mess, and he knows it. Minute by minute he goes empty. Like an hourglass with a scarce amount of sand, bit by bit falling under. The only sound he hears is his breathing and the whirring of a small electric fan beside his bed. His white button up is wrinkled, one end sticking out from his black jeans. He didn’t even take off his shoes. He turns his head towards a long, brown envelope on the floor, its contents partly peeking out since he threw it down once he’s gotten in his room. He narrows his eyes on one of the papers, where he can read a portion… _Thank you for your interest in our company but..._

Levi drags both his hands over his face and groans. He’s hitting the last of his control, and it goes down, down, down quickly. His chest hurts and his stomach churns and he feels disgustingly miserable. When did things began to spiral out of control? Where did he fuck up? Is it him?

Probably. It’s always been his fault, right? Kenny always blamed him for things. Of things he has no power over. Fuck, even other people blamed him for things.

 

Even Kuchel’s death.

 

Of Isabel being separated from him.

 

Sometimes he thinks he’s the one responsible for everything. He clutches and claws at his chest, heaves deep breaths but even the repeated actions doesn’t calm him down. He feels sick. Is he not right in the head? Was it so wrong being himself? He wants to wail, scream, cry, anything! Anything at this point in time, because he feels like he’s dying. He can’t breathe. Shit, he can’t breathe!

He tries though; tries and ends up falling off his bed. He kneels on the floor, his arms shaking as he attempts to get himself upright. He’s so fucking tired! Why does it hurt? He frantically looks around his room for his phone and wallet and when he sees it, he grabs both and runs out of his room, runs down the stairs. He hears bottles clinking in the kitchen and Kenny’s shout ‘what the fuck Levi’, because he throws the front door open and he doesn’t look back.

He knows he has to run, and he knows that if he doesn’t he’ll go empty. A blank slate. A black hole. Like that flat line on a heart monitor. That instead of a steady _beep, beep, beep_ , he’ll be gone into a _tooooot_ and then a doctor would come in, look at his watch, state the date and time and shake his head.

He just knows that he has to do something. So Levi runs. Runs like a madman fed up of being chained down.

 

He turns a corner.

 

One, Two. Not slowing down.

 

_Go away,_ he thinks.

 

He speeds up like a car beating the red light.

 

_Go away_!

 

He jumps over a fence.

 

Within him, he screams.

 

_Go the fuck away!_

 

He stumbles down a couple of times and scratches his elbows, and he doesn’t stop; runs and runs until that painful throbbing disappears. And when it does he finds himself leaning on a wall in a dark alley, he’s breathing hard, with one hand clutching at his chest. And then—

 

It dawns on him.

 

It’s gone.

 

He’s staring blankly on the opposite wall, just as he was back in his room—and he grips on his shirt harder. Because it’s gone.

 

It’s empty.

 

He’s fucking empty.

 

Levi doesn’t feel anything. He’s just there, standing still. A car passes by, the headlights reflecting off the wall. A cat shrieks somewhere. Levi gazes up, slowly, and the sky is dark.

 

He sticks his other hand in his pocket, looking for something.

 

A deep breath and a blink—once, twice, thrice—

 

Exhales—

 

He slides down from the wall to the concrete, and closes his eyes. His surroundings are muted in his ears, but there was that continuous _drip, drip_ he can only hear inside his head and on his arms.

 

<*>

 

_“Levi.”_

“Hmm?”

 

He’s currently sitting on one of the plush chairs in the museum lobby. Piano music was softly drifting out from the speakers. There was no one else there except them and the receptionist who was busy with typing on the computer while talking on the phone. He stops fiddling with his handkerchief when he feels Kuchel’s hand carding through his hair, fingers lightly scratching on his undercut and then pauses at his nape.

 

“Levi.”

This time he turns to her.

 

“Maman?”

 

Then he remembers Kuchel is long gone and that instead of finding pale skin, there’s a tan arm with long, tan fingers circling around his throat.

 

He’s looking into burning eyes.

Gleaming.

Glowing.

 

Not that cobalt gray he’s familiar with.

 

Round face.

Pearly white teeth.

 

He sees the words first on its lips, before the voice reaches his ears.

 

_“Levi, what do you wish for?”_

 

<*>

 

There was a searing pain in Levi’s head and he jerks awake. He whimpers as he holds his head in his hands. He feels weird and when he moves his legs, he realizes that he’s lying flat on his back. His throat is dry and when he drags one of his hands there, the pain in his head starts ebbing away. He blinks for a moment, and he thinks there’s something gold flashing in front of his eyes before finding the usual white ceiling of his bedroom.

Inhales—

 

He weirdly feels like he has forgotten something.

 

Exhales—

 

The electric fan is unceasingly whirring beside his bed. Outside there is an occasional barking of a dog. It was quite dark inside his room but he can make out the shapes of his things since the light from the lampposts on the street filter through the window blinds.

He sits up and leans back on the headboard. Something’s off. His instincts is screaming at him. He squints as he looks around in his room, and finds everything… in order. Levi still can’t pinpoint. He’s fairly sure it wasn’t like this when he… what did he—

And then he remembers he was outside, and he freezes as his gaze settles on top of his desk. There was the silver glint of the Swiss knife and it doesn’t conceal certain blots on it.

Levi fists both his hands and closes his eyes. There’s a chill that ghosts over his throat but it quickly disappears when he reaches to touch it.

He inhales. Exhales.

He drags himself off his bed, takes the knife and heads to the bathroom. He switches the light on—

“Shit. Oh, shit."

He sees the dried blood on the knife. It wasn’t just blots—it’s more crimson than silver. Levi finds it funny that it still shines. What the hell did he do?

He opens the faucet and rubs the knife clean under the running water. He goes over the task a couple of times.

When he was done, he raises his hand towards the cabinet beside the mirror. For a split-second he thinks there was an aurous sort of flickering in his periphery that he quickly turns his head to look at it, but he only finds his reflection. He looks... tired and pissed off as always.

He takes out a small towel to wipe down the knife dry.

Something clicks in his head.

He raises his chin, and tips his head back a little as his gray eyes widen a fraction. What the fuck is going on he thinks, because right there on his pale neck, were faint marks of fingers.

Levi carefully puts the towel and knife down on the sink. His eyes follow each finger, and he stretches a bit more to see that the mark, no, the hand is quite big.

He tentatively reaches a finger towards the fading yellowish marks before he hears a faint, buzzing sound in his ears.

 

_Levi, what do you wish for?_


	10. fantasy au 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bruh i just wanted something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same au as ch 1, 3 and 4~

Levi was supposed to head to Erwin's office that morning; a soldier had reported a sighting of a number of wandering orcs north of town last night, and as it was occurring a lot in the past weeks, he had wanted to ask the commander if they should head there to check and add more men on the outer gates. He was stopped short on his way there by Hanji and her excited yammering, insisting he bring Eren to her since she was able to make a concoction to feed their recently, furry guests.

One of the Fenrir was still healing from an almost fatal wound, and Hanji is best with making healing concoctions for the mystical creatures; after all, she's probably the only person equipped with knowledge on such beings what with all her obsession on the mysterious since god knows when, and out of all the folk living in the town, Eren is the only one the Fenrir has taken a liking to.

That is why he ended up coming to the library to check on the amnesiac brat whose duty was to tidy it. The green-eyed boy didn't even argue given the size of the library; Eren accepted it with glee as he was always hanging about the quiet place, huddled in a corner surrounded with stacks of thick, hardbound books. The boy is probably familiar with every nook and cranny as he is with his own limbs, since he spent most of his time if not in the forest or in training, there.

Levi expected to find the brat when he opened the door, but he didn't, and his cleaning tendencies took over when he swiped his fingers on one of the shelves. Despite his fingers coming off clean, he could still feel some grains of transparent dust in between his fingertips.

The marble floors look impeccable; shiny even, and Levi could almost use the said floor as a substitute to the foggy mirrors in the baths. Even the wooden stools, and the plush, velvet chairs surrounding the carved round table at the center were spotless. The high windows and window sills are also free from soot and other particles. Eren did a good job.

Almost. He needs Eren to redo the shelves.

He hunts him down with that in mind.

 

***

 

"Petra."

"Good morning, Captain." Petra greets. She stops wiping a plate dry and places it on the wooden rack. Levi nods in response.

"Have you seen Eren?"

"I think I saw him running earlier with a pail and a rag to clean in the library. Is something the matter, captain?"

"I've checked, he's not there."

"Oh, then maybe he's in the forest? I think I heard Erd saying Eren was fetched by a younger wolf." Petra suggests.

The captain arches a brow, and somehow, his lips are unconsciously twitching upward. Petra laughs.

"It seemed like... _'the wolf was actually waiting for Eren'_ and _'it had brought him flowers'_ , that is exactly what I heard." she adds with an amused tone.

He hums.

Levi thinks it's more likely since Eren has been... chatting with the Fenrir. How? Even Hanji couldn't get around to it. It just appeared that Eren understands whatever the... Fenrir is trying to communicate. And he has been searching the camp and still cannot locate any green eyed brat. Where else could he be?

Petra just smiles and resumes drying the other plates; she watches Levi as he lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Did he not clean properly?" she asks.

"The shelves."

"Ah."

"Hanji is also looking for him."

"I see," and she gives him a knowing look, and he shrugs because they both know he can't say no to Hanji, "then I'll let the others know you'll be outside, captain."

Levi nods again, but before he could get out of the kitchen door, Petra quips, "...Good luck, captain!"

He just shakes his head.

 

***

 

He heard before he saw them; barks and tiny, happy squeals behind rows and rows of lanky trees. The sun was flashing above its bright, warm light, as if trying to coax every living thing it might have missed earlier, big or small into wakefulness. It was a bit chilly, like the remnants of the morning fog was reluctant to leave, even though the sun had been up for over a few hours.

The forests surrounding Trost had always been a mystery; temperatures low even during midday, and high even when the early months of winter had set in.

And about a week ago, the Fenrir-- and the Wisps, just came out into the open, beings that were said to have never been seen and observed closely; mythical creatures only passed down in stories of old, and the elderly who had survived the Blood War-- and yet here they are, in the flesh and not just some word-of-mouth narrative, floating and running and talking with a boy with no memories in the middle of this incomprehensible forest.

Eren was toppled over; a gray wolf was proudly sitting on his back, keeping him face-down on the grassy ground, and another, a brown wolf which was pulling at the boy's left sleeve. Eren was laughing and squirming, trying to no avail to get the gray wolf off of him.

There were also three Wisps hovering over them, and from afar they looked like sparkling spheres of yellowish light, glinting underneath the brightness of the day. The gray wolf turned its head to Levi as he approached them.

"Eren." Levi said.

The boy's laughing ceased, and he turned to where Levi was standing. Eren was huffing and taking breaths, and the gray wolf removed itself from his back. The brown one had stopped pulling at Eren's sleeve and went to stand side by side its brother. Eren stood up quickly and was brushing stray leaves and grass from his shirt and trousers.

"I- I... my apologies, Captain. They had wanted to show me that... they were feeling well." Eren stuttered as he explained, looking at Levi, and then at the younger wolves who seemed to be observing his superior with radiant, blue eyes.

"It's alright. I came here because Hanji was looking for you."

"Ah... yes. I'm sorry."

"Hm."

 


	12. black fur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a summer thing idek

Levi was walking by the shoreline looking for his cousin. The waves were tame, lapping along the white sands, the taste of salt hanging on his nostrils and the burn of the morning sun tingling on his skin. He was wearing a light blue shirt and brown pants and a straw hat with a string perched on his head.

His sandals sink into the ground, his footprints leaving a clear path behind him as he strolls with ease, looking out for any signs as to where Mikasa might have headed.

They were supposed to go into the town center to pick up souvenirs for her childhood friend, and he might as well get something for Hanji because she would probably bother him at work relentlessly if he didn't bring anything back.

He paused, trying to think of what Hanji might like, and he's sure that as long as it looks questionable the crazy woman would like it.

A few shouts of men tore him from his pondering. Ahead of him, a few fishing boats were coming ashore; the fishermen were pushing the wooden transport back to land. They undoubtedly had been out even before dawn and now they are hauling out containers of today's catch to be delivered immediately to the town market.

He unconciously moved his hand on his left thigh as he gazed upon the activity, and a certain itch comes eroding in his mind. He closes his eyes and shoves both of his hands in his pant pockets as he wills it away.

Amidst the noise was a familiar sound of laughter.

He looks opposite the sea and turns that way; the waves and the heat and the chatter receding behind him as he follows the sound, the sandy shore turning into a rocky path.

He meanders carefully, trying to locate Mikasa, since the path he had taken was surrounded with rows and rows of palm trees. Thankful for the shade, Levi removes his hat and leaves it hanging behind his back.

Then he hears it again, crisp and clear. A girl's giggling and he spots that familiar black hair.

Mikasa was sitting on a dry and rotting log, her pale pink summer dress in contrast with the deep green cotton shirt of a young boy beside her. The boy had his back on him but he could see the messy brownish hair and tan complexion from his arms. He was wearing matching pants and was barefooted.

The crunch of dead leaves and misplaced rocks catch their attention and they turn to him; Mikasa's laughter breaks into a smile and she waves at him, while her companion slowly turns around and offers a grin. Levi in turn offers them both a curt nod. He was about to say something when a ball of black fur jumps off the boy's lap and runs at his feet.

He looks down and finds round, gray eyes stare back at him. It had black fur and small black paws, its pink tongue hanging out from its mouth and surprisingly, it had a white wagging tail.

It rapidly runs around his feet for a couple of times before hanging back on his legs, tails wagging and eyes expectant. It barks once. Twice.

Levi glares it down.

Another run around, then another bark.

"Just pet him already."

Levi shifts his glare towards Mikasa.

"No."

A bark. Mikasa glares back at him and tilts her head towards the puppy. The swaying of the palm leaves and the rhythmic panting of the puppy is the only sound surrounding them.

Levi crosses his arms in front of him.

Another bark.

Mikasa quirks an eyebrow. He raises his too.

  
"He looks like you."

Levi turns towards the boy, and he watches as the boy covers his mouth with his hands. There's a pink tint of embarrassment creeping on his tan cheeks.

Mikasa was shaking, then breaks into full laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos, comments and feedback are loved!


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